


Dinner's Done Watch Him Run

by solluxisaripeprick



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Gangs, Guns, M/M, Modern Ray Riding Hood, Violence, probably at least
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 03:22:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5318576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solluxisaripeprick/pseuds/solluxisaripeprick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What fresh hell did Ray get into, he didn't know. One minute he's just living a regular life and the next he's bombarded by his friends to deliver something to their friend Geoff Ramsey. Oh, and they're in a gang too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So Long Live The Reckless And The Brave

His mom told him not to get involved with the streets.

How did he get stuck in this traffic? He really didn’t know. One minute he was told by some _great_ friends of his to meet up with them at the park. The next minute he saw them with bats and one of their handy dandy drug dealers.They had sounded ominous and shady, and even the park was shady but, YOLO, right? Gotta take risks in a world like this, and maybe he was getting a little too close for comfort with those guys. They did some pretty stupid shit and what do you know, they're in a gang, apparently.

Mother’s always right they said. And yeah, mom usually was right but he couldn’t exactly get out now. He just continued to slowly walk towards them and pray they’d get sidetracked. He also prayed this wasn’t initiation day, he had a curfew to follow and he didn’t want to explain bruises, cuts, and broken bones.

Michael had sauntered over to him when he got close enough, softly hitting the palm of his hand with the bat. Was he going to die? Probably. A second after Gavin showed up with dumb fucking groucho shades but, explosives hidden underneath his jacket. He swore if Gav decided the best way to punish him was to play hot potato in the park, they would be in jail in a heartbeat. And he knew gangs didn’t want that. Maybe it was warning. Didn’t seem like they were kidding anyway.

“You made it just in time, thought I’d have to search for you for second there, “ Michael had practically threatened, a freaking smirk on his face. He was going to die, definitely.

“Hey, look dude, we’ve been on good terms since day one when did we get some beef on each other. How about just a game of baseball, huh, huh?” Man was he desperate, well, he didn’t have a death wish. And he had a game to finish too.

“Oh, oh no, no worries dude, things will be fine.” It wouldn’t be fine. “You see, when you decided to become friends with us, we thought you’d come in handy. Wouldn’t want to let us down now, right.”

“Well-” Michael turned a bit to the side, flashing a pistol in his face. “Oh yup, definitely, would not let you down.”

“Glad we’re on the same terms. Anyway, we’ve got some deliverin’ for you. Our good friend Jack here has supplied us with some goods, seems easy for you,” Gav had said, and the assumed friend Jack had moved up to the plate. He looked like some big fluffy teddy bear, but something told Ray that he could be snapped in two if the guy just poked him. He pulled out a small brown package and you quickly took it, fortunately you were wearing your oversized red hoodie, big enough to conceal a package.

“You need to deliver this to Geoff Ramsey, as soon as possible. Don’t let anyone else do it for you-We’ll know. Come back around Saturday, _with a better thing to hide the package in_ , and we’ll supply you with what you need.” Ray nodded, the guy seemed nice enough, but this was still a gang. And it still was going to be a hell of a lot of trouble.

He started to make it back home, Michael had walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and leaned forward.

“Tell anyone about this and you’re dead meat, bud.”

So now here he was, with a brown package in hand. He wanted to make a stop at Gamestop to grab some things, but that didn’t seem like an option now. At this point he was just glad his mom wasn’t home. Hey, who knows, maybe she was some top secret agent that could get him out of here. Or a bigger, scarier gang leader. He was practically up for surprises today, not. He just sank into his bed, staring at the package. There was blood in the corner and it seemed like it had been kicked around, or charred. _So much for easy_.

“What’s even in this stupid thing anyway,” he whispered. Coke? Weapons? Some top secret whatever? He shook it around, the contents still unjudgeable. He placed it to the side before proceeding to lay down.

He was in a gang now he guessed. Once you did something for them you’re bound for life. Oh boy, how would he explain this. “Oh hey mom I accidentally delivered a package that a gang member gave to me now it looks like I’ve gone into the exact place you didn’t want me to go into.” He didn’t know what he’d die first from, this mission or his mom’s scolding.

And it’s not like he could give it to someone else to deal with his problem. They probably had eyes everywhere. He didn’t want to leave his mom with a death message and a funeral. He still had a life to live. And that 500,000 gamerscore to get to. So he had no choice. He had to go through with it and hope he doesn’t die from it. Or he gets a free pass from this Geoff person where this was a one time thing and they’d never need to lay eyes on each other again. He had to be nice guy. Michael and Gavin were still pretty good friends even they had ripped the exit from him, and Jack, it didn’t look like he wanted to harm anyone.

He just didn’t want to be caught up on a rooftop with a sniper rifle in hand in the future. He was great at Call of Duty, but he didn’t want to be recognized as some sharp shooter.

Maybe if he went to sleep this would all be a dream. If he hit the heels of his red shoes chanting, “I wish I was home, I wish I was home” he’d wake up back at Kansas. Or, Texas. Maybe it was a joke. Jack really is like, one of their uncles who’s a great baker and package just has paper in it. He’ll walk back to the park and a bunch of camera people will be there the three of them to show he just got Punk’d. They’d laugh and he’d be teased about it for months.

If only. It probably wasn’t that, they seemed serious about it. But if they were serious they would probably be smart enough to not choose him. He wasn’t the strongest guy on the block and his only way of defense was to do a sidewalk salsa. His speciality is to run though...for a couple seconds before he got tired. And if they knew him well enough they’d know he is one lazy son of a bitch. He lounges around on his DS or Xbox 24/7 as he slowly sinks back into the couch with dorito crumbs gently sprinkled onto his shirt. This wasn’t exactly gang member material. Those guys made some great choices. He couldn’t wait to let them down without even trying.

Oh well, what’s done is done. He sighed, getting up and stuffing the small package into one of his old backpacks, picking up a controller and settling back down. Better play this while he could, he had a long day, maybe week, ahead of him. 


	2. I'm Wanted And On The Run

He made it back to the park and it felt and looked like a scene straight out of a fucking movie where there’s a guy smoking a joint chilling on the side of an alleyway. You approach the guy and he slyly opens his trenchcoat to reveal some nice looking drugs. Except it’s two dudes leaning against a tree and their burly uncle waving kindly while they try to look like top secret agents. He sighed, rolling his eyes as he quickened his pace. This wasn’t even scary or intimidating anymore, just straight up cringe-worthy.

“What up Douches, you guys ready or do you need a moment,” he had sarcastically asked, hands in his pockets and a nonchalant expression on his face. Gavin had practically scrambled up, fumbling with the shades that flew off his face. Michael just chuckled at the taller one, nodding.

“Are you ready?”

“Nope. Not. At. All. But it’s not like I can do anything else about it so, show me the way. Unless your hideout is underground and you want me to dig my way there.” Now was Michael’s time to roll his eyes, he motioned him to follow the three. Even though the encounter on the first day was so up and sudden they were moving awfully slow to get to this hideout. Not even in a sneaky way, just straight up “I’m going to drag my feet against the pavement and continuously annoy you because it’ll be funny if you’re impatient” type of thing. Now he really felt like this was some prank ployed to get under his skin. And it was working.

They jingled some keys and giggled. Were they kidding? He didn’t know. And he didn’t want to ask either. He just stayed in his confusion, they’ll give him an explanation once they head inside.

Michael opened the door, holding it open for him as he bowed and pointed at the entrance, “After you.”

He walked inside, checking the place out. Fancy...ish. Didn’t give him that “abandoned and bloody” vibe he thought it was going to give him. Hell, it didn’t even feel like a hideout. Just a regular house. He guessed that was the point. Abandoned buildings were dead giveaways, sometimes literally.

The inside was definitely not, clean though. He had to be careful of where he stepped because of the thrown around beer bottles and broken glass in general. The place reeked too, he looked around. Leftover plate with food still on them...Disgusting. He hoped that the weapons were at least clean, not covered in blood and shit. More looking around. Ants, hmh. He hoped that they didn’t _live_ here, or that any member did. And he hoped initiation day wasn’t initiation week where he had to survive the whole time there. He shivered, wishing they’d get this over with quickly.

“You guys ever think of like...cleaning this place? At all?” He turned around, looking at them in bewilderment. “Ever heard of the term either?”

“Honestly, I try my best to clean this shithouse but it piles up every time,” Jack answered, chuckling.

Gavin had shrugged. “If you don’t live here why clean it, right.”

“...Right. The cops never expect the house that reeks of shit!”

“Haha, funny.” Michael rolled his eyes, kind of stomping his way to the front. “ _Anyway_ , I believe we’re here for a reason.”

“Yeah, yeah. And _I_ believe you’re the ones who are supposed to show me sooo…”

The basement smelled a lot better than upstairs, surprisingly. Muggy and dusty maybe, but not shitty and infested. They at least prioritized their weapons better, they looked relatively clean. And dangerous. He made sure he didn’t stand near any of them unless he really wanted to get hurt. It wasn’t even the fact that they probably knew how to work all of these it was the fact they probably _didn’t_. One wrong move and it’s a “Gee, Ray where’d that big gash in your arm come from?” He didn’t know Gavin, probably from you trying to clumsily look cool with a machete. He just wavered close to Jack, he seemed trustworthy.

He was supplied with a bat, a small knife, and a pistol for the “journey.” Ray even had tried to negotiate that he should be given the big guns, all those hours in Call of Duty had got to pay off. But Jack just stared at him, judging. Instead Ray dealt with what he got and tried to find a way to fit this bat in his bag without crushing his DS, or the package.  

“Do you think if I proclaim that baseball is my passion and I’m the player that coach forgot people would understand,” he asked, shuffling his bag constantly in order to find space. That package was considerably big and this bag was considerably small.

Michael replied, “Could just semi put in your bag and zip it up until it hits the bat. Maybe people will think you’re going to baseball practice.”

He snorted, “For the rest of my life.” He did what Michael suggested anyway, seemed smart at least.

“Oh, and I should mention there’s a biker gang prowling the streets. Vagabond’s the leader, or the so called ‘Big Bad Wolf.’”

Ray froze, looked up, and made a face. “Okay which of one you shits said it was easy, because this starting to sound less and less easy.”

“I may have done a bit of a fib,” Gavin said, “But as long as he doesn’t spot you you’re free as knobs.”

“And how free is a knob, Gav.” He just scrunched up his face and stuck his tongue out at you, Ray just went with it.

“So when do I start this and how long will this take, because I got a mom to explain this to.”

Jack spoke up, “Well, tomorrow, of course. Why else would we bring you over here? And as for your mom...You could just say you’re staying over with friends for a week or two, a special event maybe.” Like that’s gonna pass her. He just shrugged. Well, it’s not like she would really mind. Suspicious maybe, but at least he’ll be out of the house doing something other than eating whole bags of doritos and playing video games for an eternity. It was still going to be tough explain, but it looked like they didn’t have anything else to mention or give him, so he went on his way. He had a long enough walk to think about things. 

* * *

 

So today was his first day as a "runner." They had given him a list of places to sleep if the time allowed it. A couple of bucks too, these places weren't cheap, unless he wanted to stay in a rickety motel and sleep with the spiders. No siree, he’d rather sleep in alleyways and risk getting shanked in order to avoid that predicament. His mom gave him the okay though, as long as he didn’t hurt himself, and boy, he could not promise on that.

He glided his hand on the gun in his holster, he never used one, and he wasn’t exactly given proper training on how to. He had reported to them beforehand and they kind of just shrugged, saying it would take too much time. They really weren’t making this any easier for him. But how hard could it be? It was just a pistol. He’d be saying that now, but the minute there comes a time when he needs to use it he’s going to be a mess. Quite literally probably. He had a lifetime amount of ammo though, so misses shouldn’t cost him too much. Unless the other person has a gun, then, well. He’s toast. There was the bat at least, but he’d be fumbling with that too before he could even have a chance to hit someone with it. He just hoped news didn’t go around, or that he was really freaking obvious, and there wasn’t anyone actively trying to hunt him down. The less violence the better.

Which is why he was sweating and constantly looking around for possible killers. Way to keep it cool, Ray. He totally did not look suspicious at all. He tugged at his hood, pulling it more down so no one could see any obvious features of his face. Still suspicious but, it was hard not being paranoid. Maybe they were a small gang whose actions are pushed aside. Or they’re so good that they’re out of the radar. But judging by the upkeep of their hideout, chances are they weren’t that good. But maybe they were so bad they were considered jokes? That only increased a chance of bullying. His ass would probably be beat regardless.

Either way he had to be on the lookout for this “Vagabond” guy. Was he even all that they made him out to be? He probably wasn’t even that harmful at all. It’s just a biker gang. They make look all tough and angry but he doubted they’d really do anything. If all those years of Spongebob taught him anything…

But even he knew that was fictional, this just had bad stuff written all over it. And he couldn’t retreat from this either, he had to stick with the plan. If only he could drop this off somewhere attached with a note saying, “Please pose as Ray Narvaez Jr. and send this to Geoff Ramsey, also you might die kthxbye.” He would get a fake ID, fake passport, move to Mexico to find someone’s cousin and everything.

Though if he learned anything from his time New York, crowded streets were the best places to get lost in. Not quite the greatest things to be in during a casual stroll but, it was blessing for staying undercover. He tried hard to stay around busy areas, trying to recall where three way or even four way traffic stops were located. This is where walking came in handy, take that car drivers. Though being out in the open and just plainly walking wasn’t such an advantage either. In all honesty he was just lucky for stumbling into a busy area and getting the bright idea.  

Motorcycles, however, liked hanging around in practically every street. Its loud buzz was a mixture of annoying and terrifying. He was actually grateful to spot Mopeds for once, and he wasn’t even sure that feeling could even be produced for a Moped. But even so, the minute he heard one of those speeding past he instantly jumped, instinctively trying to find a place to hide. He probably looked like some weirdo. And man was this destroying the shred of ego had. Ray “Fear Not Mortals” Narvaez Jr. was no more. He really needed a place to calm his nerves down, and stat.

And what about this cliche coffee shop that was so conveniently placed here, that would do the trick. If he wanted to be transported to a different genre in his life. Still, he went in, debating whether or not he really should be wasting money on some pastries and a drink. They did give him a lot, but for good reasons too. And he didn’t think a coffee shop was one of those good reasons. In the end he did end up with a couple of scones and coffee, what? It was just too tempting now.

He sat down at the tables near the window, taking a bite out of the pastry. It’s not like it did any real damage to his wallet, so what was the worse that could happen?


End file.
